


Beauty in the Difference

by GhostCrumpet



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 21:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11261592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCrumpet/pseuds/GhostCrumpet
Summary: A slight cross-over, post Civil War. Steve is ready to go back to fighting against the forces that helped split up the Avengers, when two unlikely women show up in Wakanda. One he knows. One knows him more than he realizes.





	Beauty in the Difference

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't watched WW because to be frank the ending got spoiled for me a day after it was release and there's certain Things that Trigger Me right now that I can't see.
> 
> SO I DID MY BEST.
> 
> I'm also totally crap at writing T'Challa/Dora Milaje/Wakandan awesomeness, because I know sweet fuck all about it. I TRIED.

_ In. Count to four. Out. _

 

_ In. Count to four. Out. _

 

_ In. Count to four. Out. _

 

The breathing helped. He’d learnt it, in the hot, sweltery Brooklyn nights, laying next to Bucky as he struggled to fill his lungs with muggy, humid air. Breathe in. Count to four, hold it,  _ hold it Rogers g’ddamn you, _ out. His body had struggled, rejecting the mix of gasses filling up his chest, but he’d worked through it so his lips wouldn’t go blue and so that Buck wouldn’t have a panic, trying to beg ice-chips from the midwife downstairs to keep Steve cool with.

Now, his body fought for an altogether different reason. Bucky was awake, fitted with a new arm courtesy of the ever gracious T’Challa, and for the time being, Steve didn’t have a war to fight.

It left him feeling bereft, without an enemy in his sights. Tony was, well, that whole end was radio silence, and while their Wakandan hosts were polite, there was a chill in the air that Steve couldn’t shake but knew he had to.

They couldn’t stay there forever. Their very presence was palpable intrusion Steve had no lingering desire to continue. It wasn’t even that they, the rag-tag remains of the Avengers, were unwelcome. It was more that they were  _ unnecessary. _

He was a fighter, looking for injustices to battle. It wasn’t like Wakandan society was rife with  _ injustice _ anyway. If anything, Steve was mildly jealous of the advanced society, wondering if it could have been the kind of thing replicated across the world if certain groups hadn’t been so busy using technology and money to keep other groups from power…

The folded, fox-edged newsclipping that he held in his hand rustled, and he realized with a start he’d nearly crumpled it. He quickly loosened his fingers and smoothed the creases of the paper, before flicking it open.

Peggy stared out at him, regal, unapologetic,  _ demanding _ , even in death she demanded that he smarten up, that he calm down, that he stop being so dramatic. He rubbed a thumb over the black rose-bloom of her lips. He missed her, and his lungs ached for breath whenever he thought of her still. It was a heavy blanket of grief of his shoulders, one that he thought would lift once he had Bucky back, safe, and whole.

Joke was on him, really.

“Steven,” T’Challa’s smooth voice cut through Steve’s tumbling thoughts. He lifted his head and plastered on a thin smile. The king crossed the space between them, his long legs covering ground quickly. Behind him, and to his right, came his usual flank of bodyguards, silent and unsmiling.  _ Unnecessary _ , he thought. Not the women, but what they made him. It was… in a way, relieving. Further behind them strode a tall, sunrise of a woman, her long black hair unfurling over bared shoulders. After her- the peek of a wool hat that was all too familiar, but instead of being perched on a head of chocolate curls, it was clenched between nervous fingers that picked at the pilling knit fabric.

“Lewis?” Steve breathed out, surprised to see her there, in Wakanda of all places, because what on Earth-

“Some of your associates, I have presumed from their… interesting credentials,” T’Challa continued as Lewis waved frantically and then looked up at the imposing figures around her with a chagrined smile. “There was an attempt to hack into the first layer of security that surrounds our data networks. It was… crude, and clearly not an outright hostile event, I have been informed-”

“I was just trying to get your  _ attention _ ,” Darcy interrupted, to the subtle hiss and intake of breath of the various Dora Milaje stationed around the room. Darcy immediately fell silent with a mumbled apology. T’Challa’s lips quirked for a moment then smoothed, and he turned to the other member of their party. Her eyes met Steve’s, and he noticed she lifted one strong, calloused hand to clasp around Darcy’s shoulder in a possessive, comforting move. The shorter woman crowded into her space and gave Steve a nervous, chagrined smile. There was a story, and Steve would hear all of it. Just… later.

“It worked,” the woman said.

“Diana Prince,” T’Challa said with a slight nod. There were few that Steve thought would measure up to T’Challa’s bearing, and the woman standing in front of him was a close second. She lifted her chin, arm slipping around Darcy’s shoulders and holding her close, clearly sheltering Darcy from her own self (because the girl was somewhat prone to social missteps at an informal gathering among friends, let alone in front of royalty).

Steve offered her his hand.

“Steve Rogers,” he said. There was something in her eyes that flickered, for a moment, then it was gone. She took his hand and shook it.

“Your reputation precedes you,” she said and then squeezed Darcy’s shoulders. “It has been a long journey, and I think our mutual friend would appreciate some rest.” She looked to T’Challa. “I do not wish to tax your hospitality more than necessary, but my duty will not be discharged with merely leaving her here.”

Darcy’s mouth popped open, probably in protest of being spoken of in third person, but before she could speak, Steve cleared his throat.

“We had actually discussed… we are ready, we believe, our team, to leave Wakanda,” he said. T’Challa gave the briefest of nods. They had been talking about it for weeks, with preparations for them to leave the very next day, and diplomatic asylum having been offered in a number of different countries where the Accords had fallen out of favour politically.

It was half the reason he’d been standing, staring out at Wakandan magnificence, in one of their glassed bridgeways where they’d found him just then.

“Are you satisfied now, Miss Lewis, that your captain is safe?” T’Challa asked, the amused quirk returning to his lips as he looked down at the short woman. Her cheeks went pink, and Steve’s heart gave a funny little tick in his chest, and he thought he saw Diana’s arm tighten almost imperceptibly around Darcy’s shoulders.

“He’s not my captain,” she protested, “and I’ll feel better when I see Bucky and Clint too.” T’Challa raised an eyebrow and then looked past Steve.

“Then by all means, let me lead the way,” he said, and offered her his arm. She took it, with hesitance, glancing at Diana who let her go at the same time. Diana shrugged one shoulder. Darcy and T’Challa left, the Dora Milaje flanking them as they went.

“Who are you to her?” Steve asked as soon as the others were mostly out of earshot. Diana folded one arm across her stomach, her eyes flicking down to the paper still in Steve’s hand. Peggy stared back up at her.

“I think perhaps, I would rather discuss who you are to her?” Diana said, a jerk of her chin indicating in Darcy’s direction. Steve felt the laser-tight focus of Diana’s gaze on him, and felt compelled to answer.

“Someone who cares. She’s a friend’s… friend, and has become a bit of a friend as well,” he said, wondering why he was answering with so little hesitation. Diana smiled, briefly, then looked down at the picture in his hand.

“She reminds you of someone?” she asked. Steve snapped the clipping closed, and tucked it into his breast-pocket.

“We should catch up with him. I don’t want Lewis to talk T’Challa’s ear off,” Steve said.

“I’m sure he can take care of himself,” Diana said, but pressed onwards at his words, taking the path Darcy and T’Challa had taken just minutes before. Not ten steps down the hallway she stopped, and wrapped her hand around Steve’s forearm. He tensed. “The beauty… what you are attracted to? It’s how she is different,” Diana said, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Do not hold yourself back from the chance of love simply because you are worried she is too much the same.”

Steve swallowed as time tripped over itself, and his ears rang for a moment. A shriek of Darcy’s irreverent laughter echoed down the hall to them, and Diana gave his arm another squeeze, before continuing towards the noise.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it, please add me on tumblr at [hushinghorizon.tumblr.com](http://hushinghorizon.tumblr.com)


End file.
